Eros flew off into the night. Flying as far away from the palace as he could till he ended up at the temple of Aphrodite, his mother. He hadn't gone directly to her, knowing that if she had found out that she would be none too happy, but he knew nowhere else to go. The god was hurt and bleeding and, with his wings also hurt from the plunge of the knife and the hot burning oil, he wasn't going to be flying anywhere else.
He lay there for a while. Staring up at the vaulted ceiling and breathing deeply to edge the pain away. The scents of her oils and incenses the humans used to worship her were heavy all around the temple and it eased his mind away from the pain in his body and mind. Even still, he was tired. Each breath he made was slow so that he didn't expand his chest very far. For not only did it ache from his wounds but from the betrayal of Psyche.
As he lay there, he tried not to cry out. Knowing the hot heat of his tears stung to his eyes and wetted down the side of his face. Clouding his vision as his body bled out onto the marbled floor. He was unaware that his blood was calling out to someone and that his tears, as they mingled with this scent, were doing much of the same and when they came, their presence went unannounced as he lay there in his pity and sorrow.
"What happened here?"
The feminine voice was all too familiar. Both warm and sultry. Demanding in all the same tones that had Eros turning his head as his eyes opened. Spotting the image of his mother standing over him. Her brows were knitted together with worry and fury while her fists were hitched up on her hips. She looked like a warrior in her stance as she looked over her son, wondering what exactly had happened to leave him in such a state, bleeding ichor straight onto her hallowed floors.
"Oh mother..." Eros finally choked out through his sorrow. "I should have known you'd come if I laid here long enough."
"What happened? Tell me what happened! Who hurt you? Who did this to you? I shall hold them responsible for doing this to you!"
"Psyche, please don't do anything. I know she knew not what she was doing. Not really and I, well I... I couldn't do what you told me to..." Everything he said was coming out rushed.
Eros was trying to sit up but everything was too painful. He shifted, managing to turn onto his side to sort of face his mother, but the pitiful position he took propped up on one arm drew the goddess to instead move to her knees. The stance she took fell away to become the doting mother that now dried away the tears from her son's face with the hem of her gowns as she stroked his cheek. The fury fully replaced the worry upon her face.
"Tell me everything, Eros, my beloved son."
"That day you sent me out to set her up with the most vile creature? There was an accident. I shot myself with my own arrow. I am the vile creature that you wanted her set up with. I tried, mother. I tried to resist her but I couldn't and before I knew it I had Apollo helping me. Her parents sent for help from an Oracle and we gave her word that Psyche was to be mine. She couldn't find a match because of my arrows, mother. So I sent the winds to bring her to me. I hid it from you, I hid the marriage from everyone. I thought if I could keep it quiet, then I could keep her to myself but-"
"I can't believe you did this, Eros. You know that mortals cannot be with us on our plane of existence. Not like that."
"I know, and I know you hate her mother... and that she betrayed me. I told her not to look upon me. I allowed her sisters to visit her and they talked her into attacking me. She attacked me, mother. She poured hot oil upon me and stabbed me. She feared me just as everyone else does. When she saw my eyes, she attacked me..."
"Why didn't you come straight to me?"
"Because I knew how much you hate her for how mortals treated her. For how they spoke of her in regards to you and I just... I didn't know where to go. I don't want you to seek revenge upon her. I just want to try to forget any of this ever happened."
YOU ARE READING
A Wayward Arrow
Short StoryA story of love, lust, and the soul. In all his years, he had done the bidding of the gods. Made matches of lust and love for whichever maiden or man or god or whichever tide of fate that one so wanted. Never had he ever shot an arrow for himself, n...